


The Red Patio

by sp00kworm



Category: Scream (Movies)
Genre: Blood, Blood and Gore, F/F, F/M, Gore, Gutting, Hanging mention, Horror, Multi, Murder, Mutilation, Oneshot, Psychological Torture, Stabbing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-27 03:57:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21112283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sp00kworm/pseuds/sp00kworm
Summary: Infamous was the word people used to describe the killers of Woodsboro. It was a little town, and most swore that something would never happen there ever again. That was always how the movies went anyway. A little town, a good town of families, then a night of numerous vicious killings which turned the place into some terrifying foul abys. The movies were all the same. A killer, a little town, a massacre, rinse and repeat. That's was what made them so good, you thought as you watched Halloween, unaware of the killer watching from the window panes.





	The Red Patio

Infamous was the word people used to describe the killers of Woodsboro. It was a little town, and most swore that something would never happen there ever again. That was always how the movies went anyway. A little town, a good town of families, then a night of numerous vicious killings which turned the place into some terrifying foul abys. The movies were all the same. A killer, a little town, a massacre, rinse and repeat. Some big breasted woman too no doubt. Still, they were entertaining, and you enjoyed the Halloween rerun sat in your home like a guilty pleasure, humming along to Michael Myer’s theme as his knife glinted in his hand. He flipped the blade before slicing the woman’s throat and you cringed before grinning as she flopped over with a shocked, dead expression. The rest of your group had escaped outside to the pool, chugging away on beers, smoking cigarettes that they’d taken from their parents. It was a bit late in the year to be messing around in the water, but it was heated. You didn’t like the water much anyway, especially not when it was so cold outside with autumnal leaves all around the garden.

So, you sat, chewing a bowl of popcorn thoughtfully as Laurie came face to face with Michael Meyers. His cold eyes looked through her. It made you grin as you watched the young woman grow angry. Good for her, you thought as you chewed four pieces of pop corn and shifted on the couch to look at your friends. They were laughing in the back yard, lined along the patio. A few of the girls broke away with boys, waving their goodbyes and you shrugged. You wanted the food from this house party before you thought about leaving. Three people were left outside. You watched them laugh again before groping the glass bottom of your popcorn bowl. With a sigh, you got up and went to the kitchen, opening the cupboards as you listened to Laurie scream from the television set in the front room. The popcorn sat on the hob as you ignored your group of friends outside.

That was until the lights went out on the porch. The three of them gasped before ducking back inside and flicking the switches to the lights. You peered out with a frown until the male went to investigate the fuse box. The girls crowed around the table giggling. It was his house. You offered them some popcorn as you peeled away the ring of foil. A sneer was your response. Shrugging, you made your way back into the lounge and plonked yourself on the couch, watching the final chase scene with glee before Michael was shot through the eye, blind in it now. It looked cool, the man bleeding through the eyeholes of his mask, dead gaze looking at the woman he loathed, the woman he wanted dead.

“I’m going to check on Ryan.” One of the cheerleaders announced before slipping through the glass door as well. Her friend was quick to follow with a yelp, scared of being left alone.   
“Hey! Jessica! Don’t leave me alone with them!” She announced before skittering around the side of the house to the fuse box as well. You sat up on the couch and hummed, placing the bowl of popcorn aside before peaking into the kitchen. The lights were still out. With a brief flash of worry, you closed the back door. Silence. You couldn’t even hear their giggling over Ryan anymore. You clicked the latch and waited.

The phone screamed in the corner, held on the white receiver, shrilly announcing there was a call. Your hand shook as you answered the phone, taking it from the receiver, antenna pulled out with a snap.

“I think the fondest hello, is one that starts with me butchering your friends.” The garbled voice on the other end of the receiver announced with a dark chuckle. Something zipped tight and muffled crying could be heard, “Or maybe a game? I do love games.” The person chuckled again before something dragged along the stone and they adjusted the phone. The patio was pitch black.

“What do you mean a game?” You asked before hearing thumps, “Games aren’t fun if I don’t know what I’m playing.” You clutched your wrist and tried to breathe.

“Oh it’s a fun little game, sugar.” The person laughed before the porch lit up again. Your three friends were laid on their backs, duct taped into being still, crying, gagged into being silent for this person’s sick and twisted game, “I like to call it…Three Strikes and You’re Out, horror edition. I saw you watching Halloween, not a bad choice.” He grumbled before adjusting the phone again, “Maybe the name needs work…”

The three friends looked at you as the killer began his little game.

“I ask three questions. For each one you get wrong, I take their guts!” He tapped the phone and hummed, “If you get them all wrong…I come and get you.”

“What if I don’t want to play?” You asked, looking at your squirming friends.

“Then I kill them all and still gut you like a fuckin pig.” He sneered into the receiver, “First question. In the film Halloween, what was the name of the killer’s sister.”

“Judith Myers.” You answered calmly.

“Very good.” He cooed softly down the microphone, “Second question. The killer in Friday the Thirteenth was?”

“Ja- Mrs Voorhees, or Pamela if you would like.” You uttered softly. A scream ripped through the air and you watched the lights go out before Ryan lay gutted, organs spilling over the patio in slick, mucus covered ribbons. His mouth was open beneath the gag and you gasped, averting your eyes, stomach churning as you listened to the killer laugh.

“I didn’t get it wrong.” You astered.

“No but you faultered. Your first answer was indeed wrong. Final question.” He hissed, “Where in the garden am I hiding?”

“Wait…That’s not a horror question?” You looked to the bushed and then the pool.

“Answer it or I hang the girls by their guts from the tree.”

A flash of black cape curled from the base of the tree.

“The tree. The bottom of it.” You answered quietly, breath held as you watched and waited.

Only a laugh sounded down the phone before a screaming ghostly mask ducked out from behind the tree, a knife in his hand. His head tilted before he held the phone up to his ear, “Well done, sweetie.” The lights went out again and you held your breath before watching the white pale face appear on the patio, almost floating in the darkness. The knife glinted before he wiggled his gloved hand in a mockery of the wave. The knife flashed and tore into the chest of one girl, blood spewing over the stone before he raised it again and sliced down, cutting her belly open, spilling shit and intestines over the stone next to Ryan. The other girl kicked and cried and you looked away as the knife was wiped clean with a swift movement.

Blood clung to his outfit as he tilted his head and ripped the other girl up by her hair. She cried, cheeks red and tears rolling down her cheeks before her neck was split open. The killer watched the blood spurt up the stone before yanking her hair hard, pulling it backwards, spraying blood up the patio door. You breathed into the microphone in shock.

“I got them right…I got them…” You muttered, holding yourself before the killer stepped over the dead body and moved towards the glass. He held the phone up and clicked the end call button. With a flick of his wrist he threw it into the pool and pressed his bloodied hands to the glass. The knife was wet now as he wiped his hands along the glass, knife tapping as he moved closer to you. He ignored your tears before he dipped his finger into the mess on his knife and drew a small heart. It lasted for a moment before he swiped it away and smashed the glass firmly, rumbling the door before he stepped away and wiped the knife on his sleeve. Looking at the mess one last time the black eyes of the mask looked at you behind the glass.

He looked at the guts and pocketed the knife before swiping a hand through the mess and smearing it along the glass, thumping it rhythmically before he raised his fist. His little finger and thumb extended outwards before he shook it by his ear. He stepped down the side of the house and the lights went out. He was gone in a flash, and you swallowed, peering down at the patio with wide eyes.

A number was circled in blood on the floor. With shaking hands, you dialled it, gasping into the receiver before the male picked up.

“Already want more, baby?” You knew that voice. The boy whose father had been incarcerated.

“Billy?” You whispered.

“The one and only.” He chuckled, the wet noise of him licking his fingers sounded down the receiver churning your stomach.


End file.
